


Unwanted and Astray

by Luna_Bass



Category: Kung Fu Panda - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Found Family, Martial Arts, Mentor/Student, Shen is a genius engineer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Bass/pseuds/Luna_Bass
Summary: Shen survived, and is nursed back to health by a young cormorant. He sees himself in Milu Ji, and decides to give her the warmth he was never allowed as a child. He trains her in his own martial art, and together they will take China by storm.





	1. Ji [Riverbank]

**Chapter One**

_Ji [Riverbank]_

The morning she awoke that day was misty, as it always was this close to the coast. The little cormorant yawned, and stretched out her feathers to greet the day. Milu Ji led a simple life, with her parents and older brothers, by the river. Fishing was not particularly lucrative, with so much competition in the local villages. And the Milu family was small. Small, but happy – or so Ji had thought.

As the young black bird hopped out of her reed-mattress bed, into her clothes, (all the while wondering why things were so quiet) and out the door to start the day's work, she saw the family's boat already gone. On the dock was a scroll. Dread filled Ji's heart, and she opened the scroll.

 

_Ji,_

_When you find this, we will already be miles away. Your mother, brothers and I have gone to Gongmen City to join your Uncle Yufu in his business there. Things have gotten too difficult here. We thought it would be better if we did this without you. Your brothers will be have a brighter future here._

_Your mother was against me telling you anything – she simply wanted to leave. I thought you deserved to know._

_When you were born, we had four children already, and your mother and I were at first overjoyed to finally have a daughter. But Ji, you are weak, and sickly – crippled as you are, there is no way anyone will want you as a wife, and you are barely strong enough to fly. Of all of us, you catch the least fish, even near to adulthood as you are. Out in the country, it didn't matter – in the city, it would. Your mother thinks you a disappointment – I don't know what your brothers think. My own reasons for agreeing to leave you are for your protection, Ji. You would have been hurt far worse if you had come with us._

_So, my daughter, eat the fish you catch, as live as you may. Follow your dreams. I simply wanted you to know, before we part ways forever, that I loved you, daughter._

_Your Father,  
Milu Wu_

 

The dock was full of silence as it had never seen before. The only sound was the lapping of the water on the riverbank, and the drip drip drip of tears on the wooden planks at Ji's feet. 

She should have known. After Mother always barking at her to keep up with her brothers, after Qiang, Zhu, Hai, and Caifu constantly making fun of her for the limp in her left leg, after years of wondering why she was smaller than the others – she should have known that she wasn't really wanted. Ji was the cripple, the weak one, the lame girl child compared to four healthy and hearty sons. Why would they want her?

_Follow your dreams._ Ji thought about that. When she was a child, she had always wanted to go to the Valley of Peace, to the Jade Palace, and learn the Art of Kung Fu. Having heard so many stories about it, what child didn't dream of being a master of Kung Fu? 

But she was lame – why would they accept her? Somehow, that didn't daunt her. Her hero, Master Crane, was only a simple custodian when he started, right? Maybe there was hope for her. 

Well, she didn't exactly have anything else to do with her time. Rolling up Father's letter in her wings, Ji limped back inside with determination. 

There wasn't much that mattered to her in their small hut. The furniture was still there, and her family had taken all their bedrolls and personal belongings. Ji searched the whole house, and she found some dried fish left (perfect for traveling), some rice (which she'd be leaving behind), and a copper coin that must have been dropped by accident. Aside from the dried fish, all she really needed was some of her clothes (simple, and patched in many places), her straw cone hat, and her bedroll. As Ji gathered these things, she fixed up the place, in case someone decided to use it as a shelter. You never knew, after all, what good things might come of being potentially kind to someone.

A nasty little voice inside her also said that she would be returning soon anyway, and she might as well fix it up so it wouldn't be thoroughly destroyed while she was gone. Ji ignored the little voice.

Wrapping up her clothes in a cloth and sticking it on the end of a stick, Ji took hold of it with her legs (carefully avoiding her left knee), and took off into the air (clumsily, as she always did), leaving the door of the little hut wide open. Excitement fluttered in her chest as she headed south to the Valley of Peace. Soon she would meet her childhood heroes!

~0o0~

The village appeared to be having a market day. As Ji finally set down, exhausted from having flown all night, she blended right in with the rest of the bustling crowd. A smile on her face, Ji slung the stick with her worldly belongings over her shoulder, and set out to find the Jade Palace. 

It took several tries, first getting lost, then asking for directions, asking for directions again, this time from someone who wasn't rude, and then finally winding up at the foot of a very long set of stairs.

As the little cormorant looked all the way up at the great hill, she swallowed. Her wings were aching from last night's flight – there was no way she was flying up there. But with her lame leg, getting up all those stairs was going to be a trial. When she got up there, it would be obvious she was crippled. 

She would simply have to hide it, Ji realized. No matter how badly it hurt, she would have to conceal the pain she experienced with every step. No more limping. She couldn't risk being rejected from the very first. Ji took a deep breath, and steadied herself, readying for the task ahead of her.

She started with her right foot, putting it up on the first step, and pulling herself up with a trembling, but reasonably strong ease. Then the left foot. Pain coursed through her leg the minute she started supporting herself with it, and Ji struggled to keep it steady, and her face casual. It would get easier as she kept going. It would, she told herself.

It didn't.

~0o0~

“Learn Kung Fu?” Master Shifu leaned back thoughtfully. “You must understand, it takes a lifetime of dedication to the art in order to truly master it. It is very rare that someone older than nine or ten is admitted as a beginner. I'm going to have to assess your abilities and talents before allowing you into my tutelage.”

“I understand, Master Shifu. I'm willing to do whatever it takes!” 

Her leg was killing her. It was taking almost all of Ji's will to hide the trembling in her knee, keep her face in an eager and excited expression, and stop herself from collapsing into a fit of screaming agony. She suspected she was wasn't doing it very well, as a well-meaning, concerned look kept crossing Master Shifu's face. But Ji refused to stop now. She'd gotten this far – she wasn't gonna give up now!

The old fire fox nodded in acceptance. “Very well. Come with me.” He gestured for her to follow him, and he led her out into the courtyard. 

Facing her, Master Shifu spoke. “Now, I want you to try and strike me.” 

 

“Really?” Ji felt surprised. “Are you sure?” A feeling of unease started to sprout in her chest. If he was asking her to do close-quarters combat this soon....

“Go ahead.” Shifu smiled encouragingly, white whiskers twitching upwards. 

Reluctantly, Ji got into position, and tried to buffet Master Shifu with one of her wings. 

In a flash, he struck out with his staff, tripping her right foot. Ji fell flat on her back, and Master Shifu calmly returned to a standing rest. “Again.” 

Ji struck out with her other wing, this time using the side of it as a blunt force. Shifu dodged easily, knocking his staff into her wing and throwing her to the ground. “Again. You're doing quite well so far.”

Hearing that, Ji's heart surged with hope. She boldly kicked out with her right leg, ignoring the creaks of protest from her joints in the left one. 

Shifu knocked her kick aside with a whack. “Again.” 

_Thump._ “Again.” 

_Whoosh._ “Again.”

_Crack._ “Again.”

Feeling confident, since he hadn't sent her away yet, Ji struck out with her left foot. Shifu grabbed a hold of her leg and twisted, clearly meaning to flip her over into the air, or something like it.

“AAAAAAGH!” Spots filled Ji's vision, and she collapsed to the floor, holding her leg close and gasping for air. 

Master Shifu knelt beside her, concern and compassion in his eyes. “You shouldn't engage in a martial art and simply ignore an illness or your physical condition. Kung Fu is meant for those of sound body, and doesn't accommodate those who don't have one. I'm sorry, but perhaps Kung Fu just isn't for you.”

_You mean cripples shouldn't be learning Kung Fu. You mean that I can't fulfill my one wish and make my father proud. You mean I'm weak, and that I'm good for absolutely nothing._ Deep inside, Ji knew that Master Shifu hadn't meant for her to see it that way, but that didn't make it hurt any less. 

Master Shifu bandaged her up, walked her down the stairs, and kindly told her he would pay for her to stay the night at an inn. Just afterwards, he rushed away, as if knowing he was being called somewhere. Ji weakly made her way to the inn, limping harder than she ever had before in her entire life. And she wasn't entirely sure that it was just because of her injury. 

~0o0~

It took all the next day to fly back home. By the time she reached her little house by the Jijia River, night had fallen, and Ji was grateful for the lantern thrust upon her by the motherly innkeeper. 

Home was just as she had left it. Empty, and at the same time, full of hurt and sorrow. There were no lights in the windows, no promise of a warm fire and a hot meal, regardless of who sat waiting. It was all dark, and chilly. She would have to start a fire in the pit – it got cold here at night. 

Ji felt something warm and wet under her webbed foot as she marched up the bank. Curious – it was low tide, the sand should be dry by now. She moved her lantern to look at it closer.

It was blood – a thick, crimson liquid, staining the white of the sandy bank. Ji felt a chill run down her spine, as she followed the trail with her eyes. It led right inside to her door.

Trembling, Ji shakily stepped inside to look. She gasped at what she saw.

There lay on the floor a bloody mass of white feathers, barely breathing, and apparently unconscious. Ji checked the bird's pulse, and sighed with relief. His (she assumed) heart was still beating. But he was losing a lot of blood – he would die soon if she didn't act quickly. Ji swiftly set to work, praying to whatever god was listening that she succeeded.


	2. Xue [Snow]

**Chapter Two**

_Xue [Snow]_

The bird had lain there for hours now. Ji had stopped the bleeding and bandaged his wounds. She wasn't sure what kind of bird he was (definitely he; Ji had had to strip his wet clothes off him to dry them – that was embarrassing), but he had a very long tail, and a beak like the tip of a spear. His feathers were as white as fresh snow.

He must be rich, Ji decided from looking at his clothes. Embroidered silk and fine tassels. Maybe she would get a reward for saving his life, she thought hopefully. Although, there was still the question of how he got those terrible wounds. Was he attacked? Wearing those clothes, she wouldn't be surprised if bandits had decided to target him. 

Knowing what he was carrying, however, it struck her as being odd that his wounds were so severe – he must have been heavily outnumbered. 

Ji stared uneasily at his silver knives as they lay beside the bedroll he was currently lying on, bundled up with blankets. She'd found them tucked into his flight feathers; they gleamed with an austere, cold brightness, hard and shining. Their craftsmanship was amazingly beautiful, and Ji didn't dare touch them, for fear she would cut herself on the flat of the blade. 

But the knives were almost nothing compared to what she'd found on his feet – a pair of bizarre, steel contraptions with enormous claws. They seemed to be like shoes, and they didn't seem to interfere with any of his injuries, so Ji decided to leave them be. She didn't know how to remove them, in any case. 

She didn't know what his real name was, so over the next few days as she cared for him and forced steamed fish down his throat, Ji took to calling him Xue in her mind. It fit him, somehow. 

There was very little to do in that little hut – from sunrise to sundown, it was make breakfast, eat, feed Xue a paste of water and fish, see to his wounds and bodily needs, clean up the house, go fishing, bring in the day's catch, make lunch and dinner and otherwise have nothing to do until sundown, when Ji would light the fire again and go to sleep. The sun rose and set seven times, and she worried that he was never going to awake. Until one rainy morning.

~0o0~

The white bird stirred in his sleep. Startled, Ji fumbled with the broom she was holding, and it fell to the floor with a clatter. A groan of pain issued from his throat, and his eyes flickered open as he struggled to get up.

“I don't recommend moving around too much. You still need time to heal. You cracked a couple ribs and one of your wings – and you're covered in bruises and cuts.” Ji hopped closer to look at the white stranger. He had a crest of feathers, she noticed, on top of his head – white, tipped with bloody red eye spots, like his tail.

His head turned sharply in her direction. Ji saw, with a startled glance, that his eyes were as crimson as the spots on his tail feathers. 

“Where are my clothes?” he hissed, his voice cutting through the air. 

“Oh! They're right here.” Ji picked them up from where she had folded them and left them by his bedside. She held them out in front of him – he didn't take them. “I had to remove them in order to treat your wounds.”

They stayed in their positions for a few frozen moments, Ji awkwardly holding his clothes out to him, the stranger glaring down at her mistrustfully. 

“Why would you help me? I'm no fool – I know that I'm feared and despised throughout the region. Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Not a clue,” Ji replied cheerfully, pushing the silk robes closer to him. “Now put this back on – my wings are getting tired holding this.”

Warily, he took hold of the robes. Ji turned around to give him privacy as he dressed. His feet, she noted, made a _chink_ sound on the wooden floor as he moved – probably those clawed shoes. “What's your name?”

“I find that exceedingly rude, seeing as I don't know yours, peasant.”

“Apologies, _milord_ , but seeing as I saved your life, I presumed you knew I meant you no harm. Milu Ji, at your service.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable Ji spoke. 

“It would be most appreciated if you could keep from mouthing off to me, Miss Milu. I am Lord Shen.”

Ji's eyes widened, and she slowly turned around. Shen stood there, fully dressed – some bandages peeked out of his robes, showing that he wasn't fully healed yet. “Lord Shen? The prince of Gongmen City?!”

Shen frowned in puzzlement. “How – AAAGH!” He clutched at his side.

Ji hurried over to help. “You should sit down.” Gently, using his good wing, she lowered him to sit on the reed-mattress. She winced at the extra weight on her left leg, but it wasn't too bad. 

Now that he was sitting up instead of lying down, Ji could see just how big his tail was. Spread out, it took up almost half the room – it was folded the whole time he was asleep. The red spots seemed to lie scattered around him like so many rubies.

Shen hacked and coughed before clearing his throat. “Anyway, Milu - when was the last time you got news from Gongmen?”

Ji frowned. “Not ever, I don't think. We're only about eight miles away from Gongmen, but my family always sold our fish over in Ya Zhen, upriver – the only place where we could charge a decent price. And that town's so isolated, hardly anyone visits. Why?”

Shen closed his eyes, and started shaking. Concerned, Ji leaned forward – and Shen burst out with a cackling laugh. “Ha! What little you know about Gongmen is decades old. Ignorant little fisher – I suspect you've never even gone to school!”

Ji puffed herself up indignantly. “Well, so what? I know how to fish, and cook, and fly, and mend my own wounds, and that's all I really _need_ , in the end.” The last part of the sentence left Ji with a bitter taste in her mouth, and she suspected Shen heard it, because a flash of curiosity appeared on his face before it was covered with a sneer. 

“Of course you'd think that – you don't know any better. You've probably lived your whole life in this one little hut, and don't know what else is out there – AGGH!” Shen hissed and hugged his wing to his chest. Ji acted quickly, grabbing his wing, and securing the bandage in danger of falling off.

“Lie down,” Ji ordered. Shen did so, wincing at the pain. Ji tightened the bandages a little too harshly, eliciting a gasp of pain from her patient. “In the meantime, _Lord Shen_ , I'd advise against needlessly insulting your doctor.” Ji watched him thoughtfully as he glared at her weakly. “It beats me how you got these wounds. No cuts, no sword wounds – it's all bruises and broken bones, bits of torn skin. How did you get injured this way?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Shen spat. Ji rolled her eyes. 

“Have it your way.” Ji fluttered to the door. “I'm going to catch us some food. I won't go far, so just yell for me if you need me. And by the way,” she turned to glare at him. “I can read and write.” And she flew off, believing she had won a victory.

~0o0~

Shen lay back, almost every part of his body aching. He could hardly believe he had to depend on the kindness of a peasant for everything now! The only shred of hope he had left was that he might get well fairly soon. 

Although, Shen had to concede, he had been extremely lucky. He'd almost drowned, and would've bled to death if the house hadn't been inhabited. He'd been ready to give up when he found the house empty. And Shen was actually rather amazed he'd managed to swim eight whole miles from the Gongmen harbor, and upriver, too! He had the gods to thank for the fact he'd survived. 

Well, the gods and one little cormorant. Who was a mouthy little peasant to say the least – how old was she? Twelve? Thirteen? She should have more respect!

Although, she was a bit of a mystery. She spoke of having a family, but then, where was said family? Were they dead? That seemed to be the case. But then where were their belongings? And why wasn't she with a relative, or some other being who might take her in? The questions kept piling up.

No matter. He would find out sooner or later. 

Shen mulled over his own past. He barked out a laugh when he realized that the Soothsayer's prediction had come true – he had been defeated by a warrior of black and white. But not destroyed. If he had seen that little loophole from the day it all began, he wouldn't have gone after the pandas in the first place. Shen cursed his folly, but didn't regret a single action he'd taken. He'd just find some other way to conquer China. But first....his mind went back to a scroll he'd once seen Father tuck away, out of sight, telling him, _When you're old enough, Shen, you'll be allowed to read this._ He was an adult. That was old enough, surely. His parents had kept that scroll a secret from him for years – it was time he learned its contents. Shen had planned to take the scroll from the royal archives, and read it when he had taken Gongmen City, but he'd been distracted with the threat of the Dragon Warrior and the Furious Five at the time, so he hadn't gotten the chance. 

If he couldn't have Gongmen City, Shen vowed, he would have that last bit of his birthright. Dragon Warrior or no Dragon Warrior.


	3. Fushang [Hurt], Lianxi [Connection]

**Chapter Three**

_Fushang [Hurt], Lianxi [Connection]_

The healing process was a tiring one. In the next few days after Shen finally regained consciousness, Ji learned that her new patient was a _whiner_. 

Shen hated the 'uncomfortable' bedroll, disliked eating fish and the lack of variety in his new diet, and detested the fact that he currently only had one set of robes; not to mention he was too weak as yet to bathe without assistance. Most of all, Shen absolutely loathed being weak, injured and helpless. 

This complaint in particular made Ji feel very disinclined to be sympathetic towards him. It took much of her inner strength not to yell and scream at him to shut his beak, and follow it up with a good round of therapeutic cursing (which she'd never actually done before, but she'd heard it felt good). 

That didn't mean she put up with it entirely.

“Well, this is what you've got right now, and you'll take it,” Ji snapped after Shen complained about her cooking for the hundredth time. “And you'll be grateful for it, too. I'm sure you're used to your fine and fancy treatment up in Gongmen, but until a merchant boat comes by, you won't have passage back up there anytime soon. So you're stuck with me, understand?” She shoved the bowl of rice and vegetables in his face, and turned, making as if to leave and tend to some nonexistent chore.

Shen scoffed, and said, “Ha! If any merchant familiar with Gongmen comes by, he'll be more likely to bring my head to the city, and leave the rest of me here.”

Ji quickly turned and stared, the little cormorant seeming comical as she stumbled. “What? Why?”

The look on Shen's face was somewhere between a smirk and a sneer. “You really are out of touch with the rest of China, aren't you, peasant?”

Ji ignored the barb, and stood up straight, face tight and brown eyes as hard as rocks. “Explain.”

“My parents banished me from Gongmen years ago. I came back after they died, and tried to claim the throne – I was met with a great deal of resistance. I would have won, if I had not made a certain....mistake, in the past.” Shen had decided that he wouldn't tell her the whole story just yet. Not until he could be certain she wouldn't try to kill him or turn him over to his enemies.

But strangely enough, it wasn't the 'resistance' or the 'mistake' part of his statement that she focused on. Instead, she fixated on what, to anyone else, should have been rather minor in comparison.

“Why did your parents banish you?” The tone she she said it in was quiet, and soft. There was a strong note of curiosity behind it, but Shen also detected something else – he couldn't quite identify it, but it seemed strangely personal. As if she had a very deep reason for asking, and was trying to hide it. But it didn't matter anyway – he was hardly going to tell her.

“It's no concern of yours,” Shen said dismissively, as if it was nothing. Her face told of simple disappointment, but there was melancholy in her eyes. Interesting.

~0o0~

The sun rose and set. Weeks passed. Shen's complaints about his surroundings slowly dwindled down to simply sighing loudly and dealing with it, as he remembered going into exile for the first time and was relearning how to cope with it. His bruises faded and his cuts healed – his bones were still broken, but he could walk around, even if he couldn't exert himself too much; his internal injuries were still taking their time to heal. 

Every so often, Shen found his curiosity about Milu Ji's past coming to the forefront of his mind. A girl child, living alone, with no trace of her family, even though she mentioned them from time to time, was quite unusual. In passing comments, he would hear about brothers, a father, and a mother, too (but he only heard her talk about her once).

Shen's chest still tightened at the mention of the words 'Mother' and 'Father.' His fists would clench, and he would sigh, and decide to get back on track. No point in dwelling on it.

In any case, there was a note of sadness somewhere in her demeanor whenever they were brought up, and she never said anything about what happened to them, which led Shen to believe they were probably dead. But their belongings? Things they might have shared with her? Where were they? Perhaps she had burned them, because the memory was too painful. But surely they had a boat – they were a whole family of fishers; they must have had something to carry large catches with. And Ji, practical bird that she was, certainly wouldn't have destroyed such a valuable resource. Perhaps she'd sold it? But then her situation might have come up – someone, wherever she was trying to sell the boat, would have asked why she, a young girl cormorant, was selling it all by herself. They would've tried to help her, or taken her in. 

None of the explanations Shen came up with made any sense. The more questions he tried and failed to answer, the more questions piled up. 

He could always ask her, of course, but that would mean admitting that he was curious. Shen didn't want to give her the impression that he cared, after all – when he was fully healed, he was going to leave – she was of no use to him after that. 

~0o0~

Ji had come to terms with the fact she wasn't going to receive a reward for saving the Prince of Gongmen.

In fact, she had considered flying to the city and telling the authorities, leading them back home to turn him in just so she wouldn't risk getting in trouble for harboring a fugitive. But Ji decided against it for one simple reason: her family was in Gongmen. She didn't want to risk running into Father, or Mother, or any of her brothers, and finding herself bursting out and asking _why_.

Ji had no desire to confront that anytime soon.

It was interesting to see Shen up and walking around now. It was as if some great machine had been damaged, and was slowly repairing itself and making itself whole again, with dignity and grace. That was how Shen seemed to do everything – even if whatever spewed out of his mouth seemed to contradict it. Just part of being a peacock, Ji supposed.

Speaking of peacocks, Shen's feathers were a sight to see. Having never seen a peacock before, Ji hadn't recognized his species at first, but now she could see why they had a reputation for being beautiful birds. When his tail was fanned out, Ji could imagine she was looking out onto the remains of a battlefield in the snow. Everything about him, it seemed, had a cold, haughty beauty to it – noble and lordly to the last inch. 

Overall, Ji decided, Shen looked like one of his knives. Icy cold, sharp as a cut to the skin, and as equally ready for endless cruelty as for the kindness of a swift death. And that was how he spoke and acted, too – his words could cut as well as any of his weapons, and even when he used words Ji didn't understand, she could tell that he meant something demeaning. 

Ji didn't mind all that much, though. He was royalty – she was a peasant, he was bound to think less of her. His parents probably taught him he was better than everyone else. 

And to be honest, Ji was kind of used to it. He reminded Ji of her brother, Zhu – always spitting insults down at her that he thought she was too stupid to see, always giving her sarcastic, backhanded compliments, scolding her when she was clumsy, easily the most learned and graceful of the family and stubborn to a fault – and yet, it was Zhu, not Father, who had taught her how to read. 

No person was as simple as how they acted on the surface – they had many layers to them, thoughts beneath the surface that you could sometimes catch a glimpse of, but never fully see, unless they chose to show that side to you. Ji was (somewhat) certain that Zhu must have, once, at least _liked_ his only sister, before deciding to follow in their mother's example. 

Ji shook her head, and set herself to sweeping. If she continued thinking about her family, she wouldn't be able to forget. Having to take care of Shen's wounds made it easier – when he was gone, she wouldn't be able to forget that she was truly alone now. That in reality, she always had been.

~0o0~

One day, it rained.

Ji hated rain. Moisture she could deal with – she lived by the river, after all. But rain made it all so much worse. And it was an awful reminder.

The river had flooded its banks so far that it was threatening to swallow the small wooden pier by the hut. Ji and Shen were huddled inside (not that Shen would ever admit to 'huddling' anywhere) with a fire. 

And Ji kept coughing. Honestly, it was getting hard to breathe – she felt like she was coughing something up from the bottom of her lungs. Shen was staring at her with an odd look on his face.

When Ji spat into the fire after her last round of coughs, she glared at him and rasped, “What?”

“Are you ill?”

“No, I just get like this when it rains.”

A silence bloated with meaning filled the small hut. Shen's eyes were narrow with suspicion, and Ji suddenly felt nervous. Perhaps she shouldn't have told him that. If he found out....Shen was actually a lot stronger than she was, now. But he didn't know that. And gods knew what would happen if he found out.

The air felt too thick in here – too threatening. “I'm going outside. I need to think.”

“Wait, what?!”

Ji opened the door and closed it behind her before he could ask. 

The rain had slowed to a small downpour, and the river had slowed down so it was no longer raging. Ji coughed, but kept going forward, refusing to acknowledge it.

It only took her a few steps to get her to the floodwaters – Ji waded out until it was just a few inches deep, and stood there, deep in thought.

When was it that the river had last flooded like this? Some time when she was very young – she was coughing even more than usual, and Mother was worried. Back then, they had all been in the hut together, one big family, and Mother had sung her a lullaby that night. That was one of the last times Mother had ever sung her a lullaby. One of the only times Ji could remember Mother caring whether she lived or died. If Mother were around now to see her out in the cold and the wet rain like this, she would have simply left her alone.

She heard the cottage door open and close. She heard the soft _Fff_ sound Shen's steel claws made on the sand, and heard him stop just by the bank of the river, hesitating, before he walked into the water with a soft _splish_. He came up to stand beside her in the water.

“I'm going to have to hang your clothes up to dry now, you know,” Ji said quietly. 

Shen was silent. Ji looked sideways up at him, and he had a keen, thoughtful look on his face, something she hadn't seen on him before. “Why do you always stand on your right leg?”

Ji stiffened, becoming as still as stone. 

“Whenever you stand on both legs, it's always when your left one is out of sight. Why?”

At any other time, Ji would have spat his own words back in his face and said, 'None of your concern!' However, Ji wasn't feeling particularly ready for a verbal fight. Something about the rain and the river water made her feel sad and mellow, and not in the mood for hiding things.

So reluctantly, Ji set her left leg down, wincing as she put weight on it. Shen gave out a quiet gasp.

~0o0~

Her left leg was gnarled at the joints, thin and emaciated. It looked _wrong_ next to the other leg. Shen wondered how he hadn't spotted this before – clearly not all the looks of pain he'd seen on her face were emotional. And from the coughing fit she'd engaged in earlier, the leg probably wasn't the full extent of it. A spark of emotion came to Shen that he hadn't felt in a long time – it was pity. 

The young cormorant stared out over the surface of the river, face empty and at the same time, full of sorrow. Her wings trailed in the water, and the raindrops continued to fall on her conical hat with a heavy plonk plonk plonk. Her robes were soaked, but she didn't seem to care. Her normally jet black feathers looked even darker in the dim light from the clouds above.

“My family left me behind,” Ji said flatly, not looking him in the eye. Shen felt an uncharacteristic need to be silent. “My brothers are strong and smart – capable of doing great things one day. And I, I am only a cripple. Useless, weak and deformed.

“My mother has decided that she despises me for what I am – ever since I was small, she did her best to ignore me, and the only attention she paid me was to tell me when I was doing something wrong. The only skill I have is being clumsy, and my health is poor. So when the family business became difficult here, they decided to leave for the city, to help my uncle with his own expanding business. They didn't tell me. 

“Ever since they left, I've wanted to fly after them and ask – no, beg – for them to tell me why. Why they decided I was worthless. Why they couldn't love me enough to take me with them. Why they chose to _shut me out._ ” Her voice seemed to ache with the hurt.

As he stood there in the freezing water, Shen felt like a great chunk of stone had been chipped away from his chest and fallen away. _Worthless. Unloved. Shunned._

They sat in silence together for quite some time. The rain ran right off Ji's oily feathers, while Shen sat in the water, thoroughly soaked. He had never, Shen reflected, simply sat somewhere and thought, not caring about his appearance. It was a new experience.

Something about the rain that evening, Shen decided, was conducive to making one tell their story.

“You asked, once, why my parents banished me.” Ji didn't answer, or face him, but turned her head slightly, showing she was listening.

“It started, I suppose, when I was young. My coloring is not common to my race – my parents told me that to be a white peacock is a gift, rare and sought after. But the fact remained that I was different. 

“My parents did not make much time for me when I was young, mainly attending to their duties as the rulers of Gongmen. What little time they did spend with me was spent teaching me how a ruler should behave, and assuring me that I would one day be Lord of the city. Being young, and not quite understanding why they couldn't make time for me, I sought to make them proud. I sought after masters of craftsmanship and engineering, to learn from them. I invented my own weapons and style of martial arts,” Ji turned to look at him at this – Shen barely noticed, deep in his own thoughts. “but that only earned their praise. There was no recognition or attention or affection for me as their son. I will admit, they were great, kind rulers – but they were terrible parents.

“My attempts to earn their love for me grew so desperate, I turned to their most beloved invention, fireworks, to see how I could improve upon it. In learning the art and science of the black powder, I discovered that fireworks could be used as a weapon. Thinking that it could be used in the defense of Gongmen City, as a measure against invaders, I told them of my discovery. They mistook my meaning, and twisted it into the worst possible interpretation. They went to a Soothsayer, and she foretold that if I continued on my current path, I would be defeated by a warrior of black and white. At the time, hearing the prophecy, I believed that my defeat would mean my death. Seeking to prevent the prophecy from coming true, I took a contingent of city guards, and went to destroy the only race of warriors I knew to be of black and white – the pandas.”

He heard Ji give a small gasp. Shen continued, deciding he would take the consequences of her knowing. “When I told my parents of the measures I had taken against my murder, they reacted with horror and shock. They banished me forever from the city of Gongmen, my only home and my birthright. 

“Left alone, I made the weapons I had long conceived of in my mind – with nothing else to do, I kept perfecting my designs. When I heard of my parents' deaths, I gathered up a small army, and with the weapons of fireworks I had created, I took Gongmen City from its stewards. But there was one thing I did not count on. One panda had survived. And because I had killed his family, he bore a grudge. We fought – I almost won, but he returned with a stronger resolve and more allies. He likely thinks I am dead – drowned in the city harbor and gone forever. 

“Had my parents had faith in my intentions, they would never have gone to the Soothsayer. And had I not reacted as I did to the prophecy, the panda warrior would not have had any reason to desire my death.” Shen straightened his back, and looked up at the rumbling, cloudy sky. “But there is one last thing I want to do, before I am content to roam China for a new goal to achieve. In the Secret Royal Archives, deep inside Gongmen, there is a mysterious scroll that I saw my father reading and writing in often. He told me that it would be important to me one day. I want to see what was in that scroll. For all I know, it could hold the truth of whether or not they ever truly cared for me.”

Shen finally turned to look down at Ji. Her expression was very serious. 

“You killed a lot of people.”

“So did my father, in battles alongside Gongmen's allies.”

“Mothers and children?”

“Yes.” Shen paused. “Not that he enjoyed it. If I recall, I was told that the guilt gave him nightmares afterwards.”

“Did you enjoy killing, in the battle with the pandas?”

Shen paused, deep in thought. He considered his answer, before finally saying, “Fighting is very different from what I did. There were those that fought, yes, but my own forces greatly outnumbered them – it was less of a battle and more of a slaughter. I didn't enjoy it. As far as I can remember, I was terrified the whole time. In the face of every panda, I saw a hideous demon who might one day kill me. I didn't stop being frightened until I believed every last one of them was dead. I will admit that what I did was wrong – very wrong, but I do not regret it. It simply isn't in my nature to regret any actions I have taken. I simply learn from them, and move on.”

Ji was silent for several moments. He must enjoy making weapons, she reflected, because he was very much like a weapon himself. He could be held passive, sheathed and still, or he could slaughter an entire race. 

She hated and was sickeningly awed by what he had done. But she did not fear him, or hate him. Perhaps it was because she had seen him totally helpless, but that was how she felt, all the same.

Ji didn't feel inclined to have him punished for what he had done. Shen had been the only person who hadn't at least insinuated that she was weak upon learning she was crippled – the only thing he'd mocked her for was being an ignorant peasant. Perhaps that was selfish of her, perhaps there was something wrong with her for it, but Ji actually felt more sympathetic towards Shen than before. After all, he was abandoned too.

Ji looked around. It was getting colder and darker. “We'd better get back inside. It's not good for you to be out here – you're not fully healed yet.”

“What about you?”

“I grew up here – I'm used to it. Come on.” Ji waded out of the water and back onto the riverbank. 

Shen slowly followed, tail dragging in the sand. “You know,” he paused. “You're the only one who's never cowered in fear or cried out in moral outrage learning about what I did.” 

Ji stopped to think about that. She shrugged. “Guess I'm just that way.” She opened the door, her indifference to Shen's massacre still puzzling the other bird. The fire was down to its glowing embers, but it could easily be stoked back up again.


	4. Xuewen [Learning]

**Chapter Four**

_Xuewen [Learning]_

The next day was a beautiful sky. The thunderclouds from yesterday's rain were far off in the distance, clear to see, like great white mountains that had sprung up overnight. 

Shen had gone out for a walk into the bamboo forest. And while his tone had implied that he would rather go alone, Ji found herself following him by air anyway. He was hard to miss – a big white-and-red spot on the ground, surrounded by green and brown as he was. He was remarkably fast, for a bird on foot - especially with that long tail of his, dragging behind him.

If he was fully healed, Ji would have had no problem letting him go alone, but as it was, Shen still had broken ribs, and Ji was unsure of how well his wings would hold up outside of a sling. So she followed him, just to be on the safe side. 

Damn, he was fast! Ji huffed and puffed as she flapped her wings harder to keep up with him. She had never been a fast flyer; Ji had never been able to master soaring and gliding on the winds, as most birds did. Try as she might, suffer her brothers' jeers and mockery as she often did, she could never manage flying without constantly pumping her wings like a crow. And even crows learned how to glide! It made making turns much harder than it should be, and she was far from graceful. 

Shen came to the edge of a gorge, and Ji was finally able to slow down a little. She briefly wondered what he was going to do now, when he suddenly ran off the edge. Ji's heart stopped. Peacocks couldn't fly at all!

Shen then spread his wings and tail feathers wide like a folding fan, and as if by magic, the wind carried him safely across the impossibly wide gorge to the other side. 

Ji's beak was gaping wide open at the sight. An instant later, jealousy starting eating her up inside. A peacock, a bird who wasn't supposed to be able to fly, had crossed a gorge far better and with more practiced ease than she ever could! Shen might be an adult, with clearly much more experience with gliding, but that just wasn't fair!

Sulkily, Ji continued to follow him. 

She didn't go very far, as Shen soon stopped in a nearby clearing. In the middle, there were two blooming cherry trees – one tall, ancient and gnarled, one small, and almost still a sapling. Ji realized that she recognized this place – it was Xuewen Grove. Supposedly, the larger tree was where an old philosopher was buried, and his most dedicated student was buried beneath the smaller tree – this grove had been where the philosopher had held his lectures and passed on his teachings to his students. Ji couldn't remember their names, but it was an old, well-known story around this region. 

Shen had apparently decided this was a good place to stop and rest. He lifted one of his wings – and threw a volley of knives into the trunk of the larger tree!

Okay, so maybe he wasn't stopping and resting. 

Shen whirled and seemed to enact a deadly dance, casting knives from his wings like they were old feathers, flaring his train as he did so in a dizzyingly graceful display. Ji, having hidden behind a nearby boulder, was awed at the sight. 

Once, in Ya Zhen, Ji had seen a public Kung Fu demonstration – it was beautiful sight, the fighters' strength and skill on full display: athletic acrobatics, feats of strength and running from rooftop to rooftop being presented as central acts. But the Kung Fu sparring she had seen then was _nothing_ next to Shen's fighting style. 

He accomplished every motion with a swift grace and a smooth ferocity that rivaled a blazing wildfire, rivaled even the wind itself. There was no brute force here, no swinging around poles or high kicks, no using elements of the surroundings – this was a pure force of nature. Shen merely worked around all the disadvantages of his environment, and conquered what was left. The look of fire in his crimson eyes and pure determination on his face were an awesome sight to behold as he danced around the clearing, flinging knives from his wings and picking up ones buried in the wood as he went along. He was like a storm. In an instant, Shen flung a knife into every segment of a bamboo tree, and then felled it with one more. By the time he stopped still, panting with the effort, half the leaves on the cherry trees were gone, and the trunks were covered in gouges from the knives.

As Ji shook herself out of her daze, a sprout of worry came to her – he shouldn't be exerting himself this much with broken ribs! She feared he might reopen one of the wounds on his torso, or worse.

Shen turned his head sharply, as if he had caught something out of the corner of his eye. 

“Come on out. I know you're there.” His voice was cold and harsh. A spark of fear entered her as she reluctantly stepped out from behind the boulder. How had he known?

Shen's eyes narrowed as she stepped into the light. “Why are you here?” he demanded.

“You're still healing from your wounds. Forgive me for being concerned.” Ji put on her usual face and an icy tone, but she felt trepidation deep inside. What if what she had just seen was supposed to be a secret? She doubted he would kill her at this point, but considering what he had done in the past, Shen was capable of almost anything.

“Very well then. You're forgiven.” Oh. Well then. Ji would have snorted, if Shen's statement had been meant as remotely funny. 

“What martial art is that? Is it the one you spoke of – the one you invented?” 

Ji had always been curious about warriors and their fighting techniques. Whenever some wanderer had happened by the village or her family's cottage (which wasn't often), she had always pressed them for stories of far-off heroes she would never get to meet. Her brothers had never understood her interest in fighting – she was a girl, after all, and a cripple to boot. And while she had always argued on behalf of female warriors, she had always been forced to grudgingly accept, in her heart of hearts, that cripples really shouldn't be interested in sword fighters and Kung Fu masters. It could never be, after all – Ji had seen that for herself. But she could always wish.

Shen seemed to stiffen at this. “....Yes,” He finally answered. “I call it Yu Dun – the Feather Shield.”

“Feather Shield?”

“I invented it to be specialized for birds – we do not have the reach or power behind our punches as other animals do, because we have wings instead of arms. Our bodies are different enough from other beings that we are often at a serious disadvantage in a fight, so I developed Yu Dun, a martial art centered around the use of weapons and projectiles. I am the only one who knows it.”

“Huh. It's very different from Kung Fu.”

Shen arched an eyebrow. “And how would you know that?”

Ji shifted her feet. “I, uh, saw a demonstration once in Ya Zhen.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I'll just – let you get back to practicing. I'll be in the area, in case you have trouble with your injuries.” Ji turned, and made as if to fly away.

“Are you sure? You seemed to be having fun watching earlier,” Shen said in an amused drawl. Ji froze. 

She just couldn't hide anything from him, could she? Ji rolled her eyes. “No, why would I? I'm a cripple, remember? I can't enjoy martial arts.” She spread her wings in preparation to take off - 

“What does that have to do with it?” Shen said sharply.

Ji growled low in her throat. Was he honestly being this stupid? “I – can't,” she ground out. “I'm weak. Understanding martial arts is not an appropriate hobby for me.” Ji explained it carefully, slowly, as if to a child. She didn't know why he was continuing to ask about what was clearly a touchy subject, but he was starting to make her angry.

Shen narrowed his eyes further still, a calculating look on his face.

~0o0~

This would require a more....specialized attack. “Is that what your parents told you?”

“My _brothers_ , actually,” Ji snapped, “not that it matters anyway. I can never learn how to fight,” she finished bitterly.

Gods, she frustrated and infuriated him to no end! Even knowing that her family hated her, she was still willing to believe every rotten little thing they shoved down her throat! How could she still trust their opinions of her, knowing that they didn't care? Shen was fuming inside, unable to fathom this stupid little bird's self-pity. He snorted in derision. “How tiresome. Have you ever even _tried_ to prove them wrong?”

Ji whirled around. Ah, he'd finally touched a nerve. “What do you think I've spent my _life_ doing?” she spat in his face. “I've _tried_ to show them I can be stronger, and I _can't_. I tried to show them I could fly properly, and I _can't_. I tried to show them I could make up for my lame leg with other skills, and I _can't_. I've tried showing them I can be better and _I can't_. Hell, when they were gone, the first thing I did was go to the Jade Palace to try a last-ditch attempt to learn Kung Fu, and the Master there said. That. I. CAN'T.” Ji paused, breathing heavily. “I'm _weak_. I have no future – any dreams I have are impossible for me to accomplish. The very _idea_ of a cripple trying to learn martial arts is _laughable_. I'm _sick_ of trying to prove I'm more than what I seem, when I so very clearly am _not_.” Ji turned away, seeming sunken in, and smaller than before. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going fishing. I've wasted my time here as it is. Come find me if you need me.” She flapped her wings, rising clumsily into the air, and flew off.

The air was still and quiet, and Shen was left alone. 

~0o0~

When he came back to the hut late that afternoon, Ji was sitting by the fire, poking at some stew she'd cooked in a little pot. She silently avoided his eyes, ignoring him as she stirred. 

Shen sat down across from her, and she didn't dare look up. When the stew was done, she served them both without a word. Neither spoke that night, not even when dinner was over and they both went to bed. 

The next morning, Ji made them another simple meal. The silence had become almost suffocating, and she was relieved when Shen finally broke it.

“Tell me, Milu Ji, do you hate your family? Do you despise them for abandoning you, for treating you like you were worthless, for calling their own flesh and blood a useless cripple?”

Ji was startled - and then, hesitantly, she nodded, clenching her fists. She hated them for what they had done to her. They had wronged her in ways she doubted they would – or could – comprehend. The bitterness ran too deep for her to forgive them now, no matter what her father might say or do to try and make it up to her.

“And now, presented with another opportunity to prove them wrong, to humiliate them and show them they were fools for treating you like this, you decide to give up and ignore it? To believe, without even trying, that you can never accomplish greatness?” Shen's voice was filled with contempt, and for once, Ji flinched at it. “Child, do you really believe that learning a true skill doesn't involve time and dedication? Because it does, even to those who have no physical weakness – and martial arts are not only the domain of those with natural talent. Even the greatest warriors, when they first started out, were flabby, weak, whiny and incompetent mounds of pulp, and they only progressed and grew strong because they were determined, because they _wanted_ to be strong, more than anything else in the world.” Shen stood up. “If you won't keep trying for something you really want, no matter how hard it seems, then I'm afraid you are far more crippled than I first thought - in your will, and not just in your body.” He turned away to leave. “I've going back to the grove to train again. Stay here and pity yourself, if that is what you want.”

Shen left, and Ji was alone again. 

All she could do was sit there, shaking. For a whole day, Ji had really believed that Shen understood her, that despite her faults and defects, he could accept her. They had both been shunned by their families, after all – they weren't so different, were they? But now Ji saw the difference. Shen was strong, and she was not. He could never understand. 

Ji turned over his words in her mind. _If you won't keep trying for something you really want, no matter how hard it seems._ She snorted. She had already tried, hadn't she? She had tried, and been told she couldn't do it. Master Shifu himself had told her so. Ji just wasn't cut out for Kung Fu.

 _It's very different from Kung Fu_ , she remembered herself saying – she felt hope rising in her chest, and she quickly crushed it before it could become too big. Ji sighed. It was still a martial art. 

Aside from being accepted by her family, if there had ever been anything Ji really wanted, it was to be a mighty warrior. When she was little, before she could truly comprehend her disadvantage, she would imagine herself one day fighting legions of foes, knocking them all to the ground like wooden dummies. Ji had fantasized about being praised for her skill, of proving herself stronger and more capable than her brothers. The young cormorant had imagined others one day whispering the name of Milu Ji in awe, of being unique and renowned. The day her dreams had come crashing down around her ears, and she had realized that it all could never be, had been the worst day of her life. 

_They only progressed and grew strong because they were determined, because they wanted to be strong, more than anything else in the world._ Shen's words echoed in her mind, and Ji clenched her fists. She _did want to be strong_ – more than anything else in existence! If she had ever been given the chance to be granted one wish, and one wish only, she would have wished for strength! The simple fact of the matter was that she _wasn't_ strong, and could never be strong. 

_But Shen said that no true skill is ever gained without hard work_ , a small of part of herself said. _Have you ever started something and kept trying, even though it seemed impossible?_

No, Ji realized, she hadn't. Because every time she had tried something and failed before, her mother and brothers had mocked her, and told her she couldn't do it, that she was weak – why was she even trying? And she had always felt humiliated, and so she stopped trying. She couldn't master gliding and soaring after even a hundred tries. _Stupid Ji – you clearly can't, so just stop!_ And she had stopped. Ji couldn't catch as many fish as her brothers, so she kept fishing day and night to try and match the fish that all four of them had brought back. _Ji, you'll only hurt yourself – you can't do it, just come home and eat something. Don't try to do it again._ And she had stopped. She had tried to follow in Zhu's footsteps, and become a scholar, and she had struggled with writing the more advanced words. _Give up, Ji – you'll never have a use for it, anyway._ And so she had stopped trying, every single time. Try it once – she clearly couldn't, so why bother? Try something else – rinse and repeat. She was a cripple – if she couldn't do it on the first time she couldn't do it at all. Ji clenched her fists even harder. Yet another thing for which she had her so-called _family_ to thank.

And now she had a brand-new opportunity in front of her – Yu Dun, the Feather Shield. A new martial art, so special and unique that it was practiced by only one being, and for all she knew, she could have become its very first student. And she had dismissed it with little more than a thought, because she had preemptively believed that she couldn't, without even trying it once. 

Ji took a deep, shaky breath, and stood up. Knowing she could very well fail, and that this attempt could end in yet another heartbreak for her, she opened the door and spread her wings, leaving for Xuewen Grove.

~0o0~

The flapping of wings drew Shen's attention, and he paused, drawing one of his knives out of a bamboo stump. 

He hadn't intended to offer to teach her the art of Yu Dun, at first – he had no experience in teaching, after all, and staying with his new pupil would completely derail his plans of leaving as soon as he was well enough. But Shen had found himself so completely furious with her; the child reminded him too much of himself, and he couldn't stand her willingness to give up. The whole time they had been silent, he had wanted to scream at her, beat some sense into her – Shen had never been one to sit still and be sad, and he would never have tolerated the idea of sitting around and feeling sorry for himself; his pride would never have let him do such a thing. The thought of giving up on something one wanted seemed so _spineless_ to him – Ji would have done so without a second thought, and that enraged him to no end. So he would delay his plans of sneaking back into Gongmen – for now.

And thus, he turned around to face Ji as she approached him. Shen held his head high, and said coldly, “Yes?”

Somewhat clumsily, Ji bowed, and said, “Master Shen, I have come to ask you if you will take me on as your student. Will you please teach me the art of the Feather Shield?”


	5. Xiuyang [Training], Tongku [Suffering]

**Chapter Five (Part I)**

_Xiuyang [Training], Tongku [Suffering]_

Ji had expected getting up at dawn to go to the grove for her first lesson. She had also expected being told what to do. What Ji hadn't expected in the slightest was foraging for sticks.

“Pardon me, um, sir, but what do we need these for?” she asked quietly, expecting him to swat at her for questioning him, or perhaps give her some cryptic non-answer. That was how martial arts masters were supposed to act, anyway - or so she thought.

Shen's actual response was more direct, practical and matter-of-fact. “Yu Dun centers around the use of weapons. Since we are severely lacking in practice weapons, I am hoping to make pieces of wood into the appropriate size and shape for you to train with.”

“....Oh.”

“Why? What were you expecting?” Shen picked up a sliver of dead bamboo and inspected it, as if scrutinizing its surface for any flaws. 

“Well – I guess I don't know. A character-building thing? Something meta....metaphe - metaphu -”

“Metaphorical,” he corrected irritably.

“Yeah. That word.”

“I don't do metaphors. It's a far too roundabout way of communicating for my liking. Metaphors ought to be confined to poetry.”

Shen, as Ji was beginning to realize, wasn't going to be like the wise old hermit teachers in the stories. 

She supposed she shouldn't be that surprised – Shen wasn't an old man or a hermit, and he hadn't had any students before. It wasn't like he had anything to build off of, so he probably didn't think in terms of proverbs. In fact, it struck Ji that Shen probably viewed proverbs with disdain, like almost everything else common or unrefined that he came across.

“Have you found anything yet?”

Ji hobbled over to where Shen was standing, a small heap of bamboo wood in her wings. She laid them out carefully at his feet. He had told her to look for wide pieces, at least an inch thick, nothing curved. 

Shen said nothing, only picked up each one and turned them over in his feathers, studying each one carefully. Ji began to feel more and more nervous as he picked out many of them, before discarding them in a heap. He didn't seem to have decided on any of them as being acceptable. 

He sighed in irritation, disappointment and resignation as he practically threw the last piece down. “No good. We may have to use the tree I felled the day before yesterday.”

This took Ji off guard. “Wait, that was always an option?”

Shen tsked and rolled his eyes. “Small pieces of wood are easier to carve. But these pieces are all too dry to work with. It's a lot more work than I like to do, having to cut a whole tree into pieces rather than use what I already have. It has been left out for two days, however, so it may have dried out some.”

“Two days sounds like a long time. Are you sure it won't have dried out fully?”

“Never underestimate wood's ability to hold water. I learned that the hard way.”

Before Ji could even completely register what he'd said, Shen grabbed her by the wing and practically dragged her over to the other side of the clearing, to where the bamboo tree lay on the ground, notches still in its side. Sure enough, it was still green, and only a little brown in the places where it was cut. 

Shen whipped out one of his knives, and Ji couldn't help but jump. He sliced a six inch section off of the end of the stalk, and held it up, to his eyes, studying it carefully. Shen carved off the dry parts with a few short snicks and set it aside. He threw her a harsh look. “Well? Are you going to help or not?”

Ji blinked. “Oh!” So that was why he'd told her to bring her knife. She usually only used it to gut fish. Ji unsheathed the small tool.

As she followed Shen's instructions to go to the other end of the stalk and cut a piece of the same length, Ji found herself growing uneasy. What if she wasn't any good at this? What if Yu Dun was meant only for peacocks after all? What if Shen decided she wasn't strong enough anyway?

When they had six pieces, Shen frowned thoughtfully and told her to stop cutting. “Hold out one of your wings,” he ordered.

Nervously, Ji complied, holding out her left wing. What was going on now?

~0o0~

Shen took hold of the offered wing and began to inspect it. With his own wings, he could hold about six knives in each one – he wasn't sure how many Ji would be able to hold at a time, as a cormorant.

Ji probably thought she was hiding it, but Shen could see her shifting her feet nervously as he counted her primary feathers. Well, she could stay nervous. If she wasn't going to bother asking, then she wouldn't get to know.

In any case, as Shen mentally calculated the number of her left wing's primary feathers against her wingspan, he decided that the most she could manage was probably four knives per wing, bringing it to a total of eight. Although, it would probably be best to start off by actually using only half as many, the way he himself had when he first designed the knives.

Just to be on the safe side, he had her extend her right wing as well, so he could be sure they were symmetrical. Knowing her various unknown ailments, they very well might not be. Shen irritably wondered if the Milu family had even bothered taking her to a doctor to see if whatever was wrong with her could be healed or accommodated for.

As he finished his inspection of her right wing, and concluded that both wings were probably fine, she finally spoke up. “Um, what exactly are you doing?”

“Measuring your wings to see how many knives you can hold.”

“Oh.” She blinked, looking rather abashed. 

They went back to hacking at the bamboo stalk. Shen detested having to use his knives like this – they were finely crafted weapons, not gardening tools. But apparently her family had taken what knives they had with them when they left, leaving Ji with only her pocketknife, and it would be slow work with only that at their disposal. Shen had decided he would like to at least finish carving the practice knives before starting the training itself.

Which, if he was being honest with himself, he was still wondering how he would go about doing. Teaching yourself is very different from teaching another, after all. Where should he start?

Simple knife-throwing should be best – Ji seemed to have full use of her wings, after all, and having good aim was an integral part of Yu Dun. 

~0o0~

When Shen had finished carving the practice knives and they had been set out to dry in the sun, he had her begin practicing stances. 

The very first one was simple – she had to balance herself with both feet spread apart, one foot in front of the other. 

But then he had her switching feet.

With more of her weight balanced on her left foot, Ji could already feel her knee protesting and her leg start to tremble. Shen's eyes narrowed and she quickly straightened out her leg. If she couldn't do something this basic, then how could she progress? She'd just have to deal with it. 

~0o0~

Her lame leg was clearly going to be a much bigger problem than he thought. For a moment (and just a single moment) Shen considered calling this a lost cause. 

He quickly dismissed the very idea. If he had given up every time he encountered a problem before, then he never would have accomplished anything. If his years of experimenting with the black powder had taught him anything, it was this: if there was a problem, then there was a way to surmount it. Already, the faint edges of an idea started forming in his mind. It would take some planning, however, and more resources than they had right now....

~0o0~

“Never mind. Stay in the other position for now – now, raise your left wing to guard your head. A little higher. Good – now, angle your head so you can see through your feathers. No, not like that – it should feel natural. There you go. 

“Now, imagine someone else is attempting to aim a weapon – say, a crossbow - at your head. Can you tell me why this is a good position to be in, in that case?”

Ji hesitated. “Because they can't see my head?”

“Exactly – and because the gaps in between your feathers are so close to your eye, you can see them, without letting them see their target. Most warriors will hesitate if they cannot see a clear target, because they fear missing. Use this to your advantage.

“Now hold your other wing loosely at your side. This is the wing in which you'll be throwing your knives from. Not matter what stance you are holding or what kind of battle you are in, you must always use one wing to block and the other to wield your weapons. Never try to do both with one wing, or you will grow lax in defense and weak in offense. Always alternate. Try switching; make your wings mirror the previous positions.”

Ji complied. Her balance was not the best, but he suspected that improvement would come with practice. With any luck, if he could bring into reality the solution he had in mind for her lame leg, she would eventually be able to do more than merely stand still and throw knives. Eventually, he would have to show her examples - when he was more healed, of course, as he suspected she would have a fit if he exerted himself too much in order to teach her.

~0o0~

They kept practicing for another few hours – when the practice knives had finished drying, Shen had her aim at leaves tacked to the trunks of the trees, so they could see whether she had hit the mark. From the time they took a break for a light midday meal to when the sun set, Ji kept throwing the knives. Her holding and throwing technique improved slightly, with some instruction, but she didn't hit any of the targets once. She didn't even hit the tree.

Ji would have a long way to go, Shen noted as they made their way back to the hut. She was too slow to pick up her fallen knives, which in real combat would get her killed. As she improved, he would have to be stricter about that, but knowing about her lame leg and considering that this was only the beginning, it would have to wait for now. 

She never glided, either, Shen noted as she flew on above him, recalling her mentioning that she'd never been able to learn. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with her wings; he would have to ask her about that, and see if he could determine the root cause. He hoped that it wouldn't be in her disability – she wouldn't be able to get very far in Yu Dun if she never learned to glide, and he would hate to be proven wrong so soon. 

Was this what it meant to be a teacher? To correct, to mold, to see another's limits and help them expand them? It was immensely fulfilling in a way he had never felt before, save when he was drawing up blueprints and sketches for a new device. How had he not been able to enjoy this sort of thing before? It made him wish his parents had had other children – if he'd had a younger sibling to guide, teach and protect, perhaps he would not have felt so abandoned. Or rather, he would have felt it mattered less, because he wouldn't have been alone. 

Shen felt a pang, and quickly suppressed his feelings. Agonizing over what could have been would do him no good. 

~0o0~

Ji was suffering in moody silence above in the cold evening wind. Shen had created a rough outline on the tree of a tall, bulky warrior with cherry leaves, with larger leaves in vital spots. Not a single one of her knives had hit the targets, and where they did land, they landed hilt-first. 

Shen still showed no signs of being daunted – all he said was that they would practice more the next day. After today's performance, Ji had no idea why he still believed she could or even should learn from him. It seemed pointless to her now, and she felt foolish for believing his grand speech for even a moment, much less enough to actually go and take him up on his offer.

But if there was anything she knew about Shen, it was that he was no fool. Possibly more stubborn than even her brother Zhu, but certainly no fool. Ji could practically hear his razor-sharp mind working at top speed as he paced down the path below her, and she would have given anything to know what he was thinking. He seemed to think that she still had potential, and if she gave up while he thought that, she'd certainly be in for an earful. 

_And after all, one day isn't so very long in the grand scheme of things._ He would want her to keep trying until he thought there was no hope left – that might take weeks, months, years even, but Ji had never met anyone who hadn't tried to discourage her after she first saw some difficulty. This was a first – _Shen_ was a first. Her resolve returned, and Ji felt heartened. She would go further than anyone else had ever expected of her, she swore to herself. If she could impress Shen, then she would certainly blow away any normal person. 

For the first time in many years, excitement bloomed in the pit of Ji's stomach. As she awkwardly tumbled onto the sand in front of her childhood home and Shen opened the door latch, a feeling she had never experienced before accompanied her; it was a lot like hope, but it seemed more fiery, more solid than her hopes had ever been. If hope was a candle flame, then this was a blazing torch in her heart. Ji realized, with a brief start, as she strode into the hut with her back straight, that this was what it felt like to be completely sure of herself.

Ji liked the feeling. She prayed it would stay.


End file.
